


You're All I've Lost (Yet All I've Gained)

by ExcuseMeMissT



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fiction, I'm Sorry, just a lot of angst, redacted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcuseMeMissT/pseuds/ExcuseMeMissT
Summary: You don’t see it coming, but you realize you should’ve.ORWhat have I done?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING  
> I don't know why I wrote this, I didn't want to but it happened and it's unedited so all mistakes are mine, please do correct me if you wish.  
> WARNING  
> I don't know them, I don't mean any disrespect and I'm not making any assumptions. This entire work is fictitious and full of angst so stop now, dear reader.  
> WARNING  
> The title is from Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson so whatever you do, do not listen to it as you read this.  
> As always, everything that has been written is a pure construct of my imagination and bears no resemblance whatsoever to actual events or people.

You don’t see it coming.

Your grandmother dies at the end of August and so you fly up to little Ilderton for the first time in a decade for the funeral. You’ve been the best employee for a while so the hospital lets you go more easily than you had expected. If you had known what was to come you would’ve never filled in the leave application.

You meet Cara Moir at the wake and her bubbly, smiley personality hasn’t changed one bit in the last 25 years you two have been friends. You’ve been doing a terrible job at being a friend for a majority of those years, so you exchange numbers and promise to keep in touch, not realizing the mistake you’re making.

She texts you the next day to come to the rink and that’s where you meet him for the first time, again. You’ve been following their progress over the years but only barely so you have a vague idea of what he looks like and how he skates but seeing him now takes your breath away. You take particular note of how deep his edges are and how much power and control he has over his strokes. You shouldn’t be surprised, he’s an Olympic athlete. He’s an Olympic gold medalist.

When Cara introduces you, he pulls you into a polite hug and offers you condolences for your loss. His words are carefully chosen and he speaks with an eloquence that probably took him years to hone, but you find it attractive. You almost feel guilty about being glad that your grandmother passed when she did, you weren’t very close anyway.

The three of you decide to go for coffee but Cara has to rush out before she is able to order because of a work emergency.

“I’m so sorry, guys. I really have to go but you go ahead enjoy some coffee catch up a little.” She says as she kisses you both on the cheeks and bustles out of the cafe.

It’s a little awkward at first but because you’re sitting with Scott Moir, the awkwardness doesn’t last. He asks you about work and your degree and your hobbies. You answer with quipped replies and laugh when he teases you about living in Florida. He asks you about your husband with a kind smile adorning his face. You’ve been staring at him this entire time, admiring the contours and shadows of his face so you don’t hear him when he asks that dreaded question.

“Huh?”

“I asked about your husband. I’m sorry, I don’t know his name, but how is he?”

“Oh, no um— we’re not together anymore, we’re actually separated. Have been for a year.” You hold up your left hand to show him your empty finger. His expression deflates and he looks like he feels guilty for having asked you so you turn the conversation onto his life and throw in some jokes about your short-lived “partnership”.

When you ask him about what it was like to win the gold and how they did it, he says “Oh it was just so amazing, I can’t put it into words. I can’t articulate those moments well enough, but I’m just so proud of Tess, and her strength and determination. She’s just amazing.”

When you ask him about the Thank You Ilderton party, he says “Tess planned the whole thing with Cara and Sheri and Leanne. They called in the acts, arranged the stalls and handled the media. I just did a little advertising and showed up.”

You didn’t even have to ask about her, he tells you himself. “Tess is in France with her mum and Jordan. They’ve been planning this trip for ages, she was so excited to spend time with them because we really haven’t been able to be with our families for such a longtime.” He sighs “What can I say, eh? Sometimes you just gotta get away from all my nervous energy,” he jokes and you disagree.

He pays for your coffee and walks you home. When he kisses your cheek goodbye and gives you a long, soothing hug to go with, that’s when you know you’re in trouble.

* * *

Around a week later, you’re back home and work is going great. Your patients are super and your colleagues pester you for details about Scott but you keep saying that you didn’t see him and that you never even kept in touch. Truth is you’ve been texting him more than you’ve been texting Cara and you know before anyone else that he and Tessa are going to be in Utah this weekend. You’ve already lied to about a dozen people about your mother coming down for a visit and how the two of you will be driving downstate for some quiet time after the devastating loss when in reality you’ve packed your bags for Utah because Scott was kind enough to invite you.

“You should come up here, it’ll be great! And we really didn’t get much time to catch up earlier, oh and you could meet Tess too, it’ll be fun.” He’d written and you’d ignored what was staring at you right in the face.

You only decided to go because Scott had told you that he and Tessa were complicated, not together but complicated, and then you made the mistake of listening to his podcast where he practically screams about the fact that he’s ready to settle down. There’s a thought planted somewhere in the depths of your brain that something might actually happen. You could be the one to give him what he yearns for; make up for leaving your partnership all those years ago, you think as though he's still bitter about _that._

Your very first encounter with Tessa happens at the dinner after the first Visa event. She’s dressed casually, in a simple cut-out white mesh shirt and black slacks with flats but you can’t help but think she looks absurdly formal. Her short hair is loose and falling limply around her shoulders and her face holds minimal makeup and she just looks so ridiculously beautiful, you can’t help but stare. When Scott comes down to introduce you two, you gingerly take her hand as she looks right into your soul as she gives your clammy one a firm shake.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so many good things about you from Scott.” _So she’s absurdly nice too_ , you think.

You reply with a snide, “It’s nice to meet you too. It’s funny Scott never says anything about you,” and you throw in a laugh to sound like you’re joking. You watch Tessa’s composure falter ever so slightly before she joins in on your chuckles and you watch as she meets Scott’s eyes for a brief second. You don’t see how Scott’s jaw clenches and unclenches. Later that night, you think about why you said what you said and how you said it and you regret it.

You have no idea where you and Scott stand so in the midst of this hectic business retreat you decide to ask him exactly what the nature of his and Tessa’s relationship is. You see him tense up before he answers you.

“I’m only gonna say this once and I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t ask me again. I’ve never met anyone else like Tess. And I’m not just saying that, I’m saying it because its the truth. I’ve never met anyone that can make me laugh as much, who makes me so happy and who makes me feel so secure. I’ve never met someone who I can talk to so freely and I’ve never met someone who’s very presence can actually change my mood the way Tess can. She is my best friend, my business partner, my skating partner. We’ve grown up together, won and lost together, we’ve done everything together and we’ve made quite a few more commitments in the coming future so she will remain a very significant part of my life. She is my support system; I love her and I always will but that will not come between what you and I— with whatever is going on here.”

His tone is still light, but you can see the nerves beginning to fray. You think he's being dramatic but you decide to let it go and you trust him because something is going on between the two of you, even he acknowledged it. It makes you feel all warm and giddy inside.

You’re still in Utah on his birthday and you decide to kiss him because you want to and your husband just sent you a measly text asking you to file for the divorce.

It was strange that you had sent Scott a happy birthday text at exactly midnight and you hadn’t received a response till late in the afternoon. You know you shouldn’t, but your mind begins to come up with all these far-fetched theories of why he would’ve been so busy all morning while you compulsively stare at the three grey dots, flashing across your phone screen as he types his response.

“Sorry for replying so late, Tess and I were busy with tour prep!”

 _Tour prep in Utah?_ You decide to wait for ten minutes before responding and when you do, you send a half-hearted haha and a comment about working on his birthday.

He sends you the upside down smiley face emoji.

You don’t see or hear from him for the rest of the day but you do catch him at the huge pool late at night, swimming lazy laps in the warm water. You decide to join I’m and the two of you fall into an easy conversation which makes you forget about the mess you made the other day. You decide to get out when you’re both resembling shriveled, wrinkly prunes and he drapes a towel over your shoulders when you shiver exaggeratedly, rubbing your arms and struggling to control his chuckles. That’s when you decide to do it. You rise on your toes and press your lips softly to his. He doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t do anything except for just standing there. When you pull away from him, his face is completely unreadable and you think you’ve stunned him into silence. He walks you to your room and this time he’s the one to briefly kiss you before turning away and walking down the corridor.

You can’t help the smile that creeps on your face when you shut your door and slide down the wood, allowing that thought in the back of your mind to flower into hope.

* * *

The rest of September is spent exchanging flirtatious texts and video chats with him and you’re happy to see that he stops mentioning Tessa in any context other than that of planning the tour. You want him and you think he wants you. He tells you about the tour progress every day but always asks you about your day first. He apologizes profusely in advance of how distant he will be when the tour starts and you tell him you can handle it but deep down you know you’re scared. He’ll be sharing a tour bus with her for the next two months and that thought scares you. If you could, you’d go to every show and follow him around Canada but you can’t because you have a job to work and patients who depend on you. For the first time in your life, you feel irrational hate for your job.

Honestly, you’d thought they’d be a lot worse. Sneaky neck kisses, tender cheek caresses, thigh grabs, R-rated rotational lifts, post-skate hugs, mouthing the lyrics to her, grinding in front of a family audience. That just about sums it up and you chalk it up to exceptional showmanship but there comes a show where Scott looks so intently into Tessa’s eyes, you feel their connection through your phone screen. You play the blurry video again and hit pause just as he sighs so softly, as though she might disappear if he breathes too hard. An hour later high-definition GIFs are circulating the internet and so you spend your lunch break scarfing down a pretzel and scrolling through your Tumblr and Twitter newsfeed, watching the same gifts over and over and reading the fans delirious comments on their “connection”.

 _It’s all a lie,_ you want to shake sense into these stupid, stupid girls. _He’s with me._

You drive to Nashville because you want to surprise him. You haven’t been able to see each other or even text so often because of the damn tour so you leave work early with suspicious looks from your coworkers, fill up your tank to the brim and you throw on your husband’s old cowboy hat and you hit the road.

You’re not surprised when he runs up to you and pulls you into a tight hug and kisses your cheek. His lips are cold and you think they linger just for a second too long. Your gaze settles on Tessa, hobbling on her skates behind him as she comes over to greet you as well. She looks ethereal in her sparkly jumpsuit and though you’ve seen a thousand videos and pictures, you aren’t able to comprehend her beauty when she stands right in front of you. She thanks you for coming and says that they appreciate your support and that you should have coffee with her sometime. You hate to admit it but when Tessa speaks, you only hear Tessa and the world around you blurs because the woman demands all your attention.

You want to be like Tessa.

You want to hate Tessa but you can’t. No, hate is a strong word and you are a grown woman.

You want to not like Tessa but you can’t. Your dazed self misses how Scott’s focus shifts completely when his partner comes in and you miss it when she tugs at his fingers to beckon him to the changing rooms, the action so intimate, citing something about dinner plans with Scott Hamilton. You’re left on your own with your dark thoughts and you bitterly drive back home to the gloomy weather. You don’t text him again, and neither does he but he has a good reason and you don’t. He’s on tour and you’re just angry and jealous.

He never said anything about it, so when the Dr. D episode airs, you’re blindsided. You make sure not to watch it because you had already seen the promo clip where they quite literally insult you as his first partner, “She wasn’t really that good though, you shouldn’t feel bad,” he says to _her_ , and so you let your insecurities get the best of you when you call him up with tears in your eyes and a waver in your voice. He tells you that they filmed it all the way back in July and that you shouldn’t worry about anything at all because they just went with the script they’d been given. He tells you that he respects you and pokes fun at you for being older than him and outgrowing him when you were little. You sniffle as you mumble a meek “Ok, talk to you later. Love you,”

“Bye,” and he cuts the call.

* * *

It gets you thinking then how he hasn’t taken you skating in all this time. The man who lives and breathes ice dance has never invited you to skate a lap with him and you think that it shouldn’t be such a big deal but it’s _Scott._ It’s funny how he never mentions anything about your short-lived pairing whenever it pops up in conversation and you don’t know why you feel upset and offended because you stopped skating a long time ago. It’s funny how now that the tour is over, he comes to visit you for just two days and refuses to talk about anything related to skating. You congratulate him and hug him when you go to pick him up at the airport and when you try to kiss him, he lets you.

You finally pluck up the courage to file for your divorce and when you see your still-husband at the court, you feel nothing. You’ve known this man ten years and even though you did love him once, now you feel absolutely nothing when you meet his blue eyes. You used to wax poetic about those eyes once upon a time.When you return to the hotel room after exhausting flights back and forth, you’re pleased to find Scott in your bed, the sheets bunched around his body. You snuggle up against him and kiss him on the lips, softly and chaste, and that’s when it hits you. _“Gorgeous green,”_

He’s been with this woman for twenty-one years and he’s been with you for a little more than twenty-one days. You don’t sleep that night. And the next day you sweet talk him into inviting you to all the “boring events” he has to attend with Tessa the coming weekend.

You find out from Cara that Tessa is wearing an olive-green skirt with a black top thingy for the Limitless Gala and you decide to wear an orange-red number you dug out from the back of your closet. You call up your niece for makeup tips and she has the free time so she guides you through FaceTime on how to angle your brush and where to blend and you do a surprisingly great job. Your soft, brown smoky eyeshadow complements your eye color spectacularly and your outfit goes nicely with the purse you shoved into your suitcase the last second. You wobble a bit as you slip on the heels Cara lets you borrow but your body remembers the motion and you stroll breezily towards the door when there’s a knock. It’s probably him, you think as you fluff your hair and take a deep breath.

Only it isn’t; it’s Cara who comes to grab you because he needed to be at the event earlier- Miss Tessa had gotten ready early. As if were something to be fetched. You can’t help but feel sour and green when you walk into the venue and see him standing alone, chatting up a group of men in flashy tuxedos. He looks the best out of all of them and when Tessa goes to stand next to him, it kills you to admit it, but he looks even better. His posture straightens, his smile widens and his eyes brighten. He looks at peace. They compliment each other and you hate it.

You stick with Cara behind the scenes for the rest of the event and avoid, but fail to take pictures in close vicinity of either of them. The pictures, of course, get out and even though their fans make up some pretty scary and nasty theories about the three of you, you feel disgustingly proud of yourself to have caused such chaotic drama. Apart from that, Tessa was pleasantly shocked to see you and to you, it’s a victory. You get back at her for that "partners" bullshit she posted after the awful Dr. D ordeal.

* * *

Never in a million years did you think you’d be on the red carpet of Canada’s Walk of Fame. But that is Scott Moir for you. He takes you to the fanciest of places when the most pompous thing your soon-to-be-ex-husband did was taking you to Disney Land even though he knew you had motion sickness. Scott is kind and caring. He is good to you in a way your husband never was in the ten years you’d spent together. Scott looks absolutely mouth-watering in a bow tie and with his hair slicked back like it is for his induction. You want to kiss him good luck but he bustles out of the hotel room at lightning speed when he gets the call that Tessa is ready and heading for the car that has come to collect them. He doesn’t say goodbye as he goes. You sigh and drag yourself into Cara’s room who helps you get ready. You purchased this risky dress on a whim just a day ago because, for once, you want to look better than Tessa. Its slit is much too high and its neckline is much too deep. The dark-blue black contrast will bring out your eyes, the sales lady had said. You feel way too exposed when you put it on, carefully guiding it down your body, tugging it down your hips and making sure you don’t mess up your hair and make-up in the process. You see Tessa’s Instagram Story before you leave the hotel and as you step into the car with Danny and Cara, you suddenly don’t want to go anymore but it’s too late now to turn back.

The management and volunteers rush your group across the red carpet but not fast enough and you get to see Tessa in her stunning, green number from an exceptional angle. Tessa in her deep V cut, emerald tone princess dress that she’d told you about yesterday. You need to stop to take in the beauty emanating from the woman who walks so confidently on her sky-high platform heels, seamlessly migrating from fan to photographer to TV representative and flashing her million-dollar smile for everyone. You see her touching his arm and goofing around with him in front of the cameras and reporters. You see Scott placing a hand at the small of her back and guiding her across the red carpet as they glide from fan to fan, from reporter to reporter. You see them clutch each other for pictures and you see them barely able to contain their happiness when they are presented with their star. You see how he taps her hand—you know he wants to grab it and hold it and he never wants to let it go. You watch Max introduce them on stage and you want to chuck your stiletto at the idiots head for the bullshit he’s spewing. You see him tear up and lay his heart bare in front of the hundreds of people in the crowd as he delivers his part of the speech. “I don’t know if I deserve to be on the Walk of Fame, but I’m damn sure you do. I’m so proud of you.” You feel sick all of a sudden.

“I’m proud of you too,” she says so quietly but the mic catches it and so do your reluctant ears. You see her hug him to her side and you see how her touch calms him down and grounds him.

He tenses up when you so much as stroke his arm. He wipes his clammy hands on his trousers when you let go of them after taking a stroll in the cover of the night. He looks nervous every time the two of you hit a coffee shop or breakfast place, eyes continuously flitting to the windows and doors. He is always the first to pull away from a kiss, the last to initiate one and he doesn’t meet your eyes afterward. He dances with everyone at the afterparty except for you and Tessa but you notice that he only looks at her when he’s twirling his mother around or when he’s swaying with Andrea Martin. His gaze is apologetic all night and his expression somber, but only for her. If looks could kill, Tessa would be lifeless on the floor because of the daggers you’ve been shooting her way throughout the event.

That night you tell him you’re very proud of him and that you love him in a drunken spur as he walks you to your room and he’s shell-shocked. He looks at you with wide-eyes and then he breathes deeply, shaking like a deer caught in headlights.

You decide you’ve had enough so you ask him.

“What the hell is your problem, Scott?”

He’s still gaping like a fish so you carry on, slurring the words as you vomit them out.

“I tell you I love you and you look sick? Are you serious about this or not? What even are we, Scott?” You say as you poke his crisp dress shirt. “Am I just something to mess around with till you and Tessa sort your shit?”

He leaves you slumped against your door and all you can do is watch as he turns the corner and disappears with looking back. You know in your heart he goes to see Tessa which sobers you up instantly; realization is such a bitch. You leave the next day, booking a last minute, heinously priced flight because you have a job and the hospital won't give you any more days off so you can follow your boyfriend and prance around in pretty outfits and fancy hair. But he’s not your boyfriend.

You ignore his calls and voicemails that gradually turn into texts that eventually cease in the following weeks leading up till Christmas, and you give yourself the time to reflect. For the first time, work is awkward and you can feel some of your usually cheerful, friendly coworkers giving you dirty looks behind your back. Sometimes even a patient or two sneer at you when you ask them to extend their arms for the blood pressure pump. Your husband asks to meet and he takes you to your favorite diner for lunch where he tells you that all he wants is the crystal vase his grandmother gifted you at your wedding. He asks you about Scott and you say that you don’t know what you’re doing.

You may not love him anymore but you did spend over a decade with the man so when he tells you not to do anything you’ll regret, you heed his advice and nod solemnly. He walks you to your car and before he turns to leave, he says something that turns you over back to sanity. “You know I loved you right? You need to know that and I hope he keeps you happy, you deserve it.”

You look into those eyes and you see the longing. The two of you had loved each other so devastatingly, it’d left a barren wasteland of lovelessness in your hearts.

You take one last look, just to sate yourself and you hope he doesn’t see the look of desperate longing in yours.

You’re not sure if he’s right.

* * *

 

The truth is Scott doesn’t make you happy.

You realize this jarring fact huddled under your blankets which still smell of him, that he’s still the oblivious, dense, impatient and stubborn boy that you left at the rink all those years ago. He is still indecisive as ever and unsure of himself and it shocks you that after twenty-one years this man still thinks he can make it work with another person. That he can invest himself in a meaningful relationship with someone who isn’t Tessa. Tessa, who gave him her legs and her heart, who trusts him blindly to fling her into the air and to catch her when they’re gliding across the ice at high speed. Tessa, who gave him twenty-one years worth of memories of both pain and joy, who he went through his highest and lowest with and the one who pulled him back to the real world after what he once said was their greatest loss. He’s shared everything with Tessa and shared just a couple of weeks with you.

You toss all your sheets in the laundry and as you lie awake in your empty bad, petrified and confused beyond belief, you aren’t able to evaluate the events of the last few months because they’ve seemed to have flown by too fast. You scroll through your phone gallery and your heart hurts to see the limited pictures you two have. You delete them all on a whim. All except one. He has a peaceful aura about him and the swirl of colors in his eyes are ignited with a glow, warmth of the deep brown oozing tenderness but you are not the subject of his affection.

You have never been.

You will never be.

No one will.

You know who his gaze is focused on— It’s her, it’s always been her.

You click on his name in your call log and it rings. You hold your breath.

You don’t see it coming, but you realize you should’ve.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING  
> So I've had this second part written for a while now and I just hadn't posted to because meh. To be honest I'd almost trashed it but then I found it in my documents while searching for an old paper. It's not edited and it definitely strays from the real-life timeline so I'm just going to upload it before any other drastic change occurs.
> 
> I'm sorry for plugging in angst while everyone is posting happy, lovey valentines day fics, I hope the ending makes up for it...?  
> WARNING FROM PART 1  
> I don't know why I wrote this, I didn't want to but it happened and it's unedited so all mistakes are mine, please do correct me if you wish.  
> WARNING FROM PART 1  
> I don't know them, I don't mean any disrespect and I'm not making any assumptions. This entire work is fictitious and full of angst so stop now, dear reader.

Your phone rings. Once, twice, three times and then the sound of your heart thundering against you ribs becomes too loud so you scramble to thumb the end call button. You send him a text to apologize for the late night call and remind him of the commitment he made to you. He responds and reciprocates your apology, telling you he’s more than happy to honor that agreement so you and Scott go to the Dominican Republic because it’s a trip you synced your calendars for ages ago, and the last thing you want to do is cancel the expensive plane tickets and hotel bookings and spa appointments just because your boyfriend and his skating partner are giving you a complex. That, and you don’t want to spend Christmas in Canada because then you’ll be expected to come home and introduce your mother to Scott, or rather re-introduce him, and you’ll have to meet his family too and while you love Cara, the rest of his family are rather boisterous and truth be told, you can’t stand them. Tessa will most likely also be there and you’d prefer to keep the two separate from each other. After all, she got him to herself for two whole months during that blasted tour, it’s your turn now.

You’re able to obtain an even tan by the end of the trip and you think it looks good on you but Scott makes fun of your “orange” complexion, laughing at you with no shame and then wheezing he remembers a time in 2011 when Tessa got a fake tan for their free dance routine and she looked hilarious as well. 

“Oh and I bet you can’t wait to tell Tessa this amazing occurrence now, can you? Go on and call her like you do every night, sneaking into the balcony when you think I’ve fallen asleep. I know she never picks up and you leave her a voicemail of what WE’RE doing on OUR trip. It’s pathetic Scott, really. She could care less and that’s why she won't pick up. You don’t see her calling in to check up on you, she’s too busy for you so take the hint and just back off.”

If your tan made you look orange, his anger colored him red.

Scott’s neck starts to flush all the way up to his face and his features, even his ears turn scarlet with furiousness. His eyes flash with a multitude of emotions that you struggle to pick up on, his fist clench at his sides and his breathe begin to tremble.

You’re not fazed though, because this is classic Scott; being an asshole and then letting his temper run away, just like when you were children. You wait for him to yell at you, hair rising on your arms and legs in anticipation. You want him to scream at you and say more hurtful things so that you can throw them back in his face and finally confront him about Tessa. You would berate him for toying with your feelings and guilt him some more with all the hate you’ve received over the past few months from the VirtueMoir fandom. You would let loose every negative emotion and malicious thought that’s plagued your mind for the entirety of your relationship because you have had enough. You just need him to shout at you, be angry with you. You just need the opportunity and you need him to give it to you.

 _Come on, Scott,_ you goad him silently.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have insulted you like that. I was simply making a joke. If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just said so but please don’t bring Tessa into this. You agreed not to before we flew out so I’m asking you again. She’s a very important part of my life so don’t go after her like that just because you’re angry at me. I’m going to go… get some air.” 

And just like that, he thwarts your entire masterplan and leaves the hotel room.

You get to dinner alone, you pack away your things alone and you go to bed alone as well. He doesn’t come back and when you wake up in the morning all his luggage is packed away as well and you find him waiting for you in the lobby before you two are meant to check out. He smiles at you politely and offers to help you with your bags and pretends as though last night didn’t happen at all.

_Well, sir, two can play a game._

You come back to Canada and have to get on the connecting flight to Tampa in four hours. Scott knows this and yet he still spends those four hours chatting you up about every menial thing that he can think of, the Leafs’ next season, winter coming late this year, the color of the blouse you wore the other day, the mauve one. You nod along and provide answers in the same fake enthusiasm as he asks them, baffled by this new response. Must be some crazy coping mechanism he and Tessa were taught for the sake of their partnership; avoid all your problems or pretend they never happened so that you can win the Olympics or in Scott's case, keep the girl.

Before you pass through the immigration box, he pulls you into a hug and whispers an apology into your ear followed by sweet nothings. You melt into it and feel the comfort of his embrace engulf you before guilt starts to choke you with its wrinkly fingers. You want to reciprocate the apology but you can’t fight it as your throat clogs up with emotion. He waves you goodbye and then heads towards the exit, bobbing mindlessly to the tune in his head. You watch him like a hawk the entire time.

You’re nauseous the entire flight back home as the realization hits you like a freight train at the utter idiocy of the man you spent the last three months thinking loved you when in reality he could only ever love one woman and so you make the decision for him. You know it’s going to end— you’ve known for a while now do you decide to break it off before he realizes what he would be giving up (read: Tessa Virtue) and has the chance to. That way you’re still left with some dignity. It’s terrible to be in love when the object of your affection doesn’t feel the same way. But then again, are you truly in love with him?

* * *

 

This time you go through with your phone call. It’s a windy winter night, the snow has just begun to drop in Florida but from what you’ve heard on the news, the Polar Vortex encompassing the north right now is a force to be reckoned with. _Reason No. 506 why I moved to Tampa_ , you think as the line rings and rings and when he picks up you shoot your shot.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You say unwaveringly.

“Um, alright then, if you’re sure.”

Silence.

“I’ll uh, I’ll come for my things in a couple of days, the weather makes traveling a little hard right now.” He has the audacity to chuckle and make a joke at this time, while you’re breaking up with him. 

Except you’ve been firing your pistol in the wrong direction this entire time and it’s only now that you see clearly when you’re on your last bullet. You book a flight that drains the last of your savings, to Montreal and go to Gadbois looking for _her_.

More like you storm into Gadbois, terrifying the other skaters till they reveal her location but semantics eh?

You corner her in the rinks’ locker room while she’s uniting her skates, banging the door open, the impact resounding loudly in the small room. The first thing you notice is that Tessa looks like shit. You can see every muscle in her shoulders knotting under her tank top as she takes in your haggard form. Her eyes have deep purple bruises circling them and the green orbs are gaunt and weary, pulling her face into a brittle, flat expression. You’ve never seen her like this— you’ve never seen her look so utterly exhausted and done with the world. Her posture screams of tiredness as she straightens and struggles to find words to say to you upon your very unexpected arrival. Standing with your shoulders back and hands clenched at your sides, you demand that she take you to the safest, most secluded cafe she knows because you two are going to have a nice long conversation about one Mr. Scott Moir.

You find a table for two tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop and drop into the chair with a loud thud, a stark contrast to the timid and careful way she eases into hers as though she’s afraid to hurt the piece of plastic. You roll your eyes at her hesitant behavior.

“Exactly what is the deal with you and Scott? He never answers me when I ask him, he always throws me a curveball, so I’m asking you now Tessa, and I want the truth. No platonic business partner crap.”

Her smile dies faster than smoke dissipates after a candle flame has been snuffed out. She opens her mouth to answer but now that you’ve started, you can’t stop the words your brain provides and you tongue regurgitates.

“I mean I broke up with him and he’s barely fazed. Whenever I kiss him, he looks so guilty like he’s cheating on you or something. He invited me to all those galas and red carpets but he spent all his time with you. The disgusting shit you two pull on the ice; the arm-stroking, the little kisses, the ridiculous expressions. I know it’s all to sell the act and fool people but I think you two have yourselves fooled too. I tried so hard to ignore all of those gestures too but it's a little difficult to do when your boyfriend, or whatever the hell he was, never wants to touch you first. Did you know he’s never taken me skating? Why is that Tessa? I asked him once to hit the rink in Florida to see if I still had it in me and he looked positively sick. He’s never told me he loves me and you know how he wears his heart on his sleeve. He calls you baby, he sings to you, he kisses your cheek, he looks at you like you put the sun in the sky. He always finds a way to bring you into the conversation, Tessa and it’s so annoying. Why do you have such a hold on this man, Tessa? Why can’t you let him go? You’ve both been playing this sick game for so long you don’t realize it when other people get roped into it and get hurt as well.”

You see her expression turn more and more stricken as you speak and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you had to break up and I didn’t mean to cause any problems between you and him. I promise you Scott and I— we—,” She dissolves into a bout of pathetic sobs, muffling her harsh breaths and frantically wiping at her tears as she struggles to articulate a response.

This is another thing you’ve never seen before, a speechless Tessa. Tessa who is always organized, prepared and in control. 

Seeing her like this, broken and bare you realize what you’ve done. You realize what you put this woman and her partner through for the past few months and since you can clearly see the catastrophic effects of your actions, you make another decision that you think will make up for the pain you’ve caused. Tessa continues blubbering before you’re able to yell at her again.

“But we agreed to—to not make any big decisions after the high of the Olympics, you don’t understand, being an athlete—it’s such a vulnerable occupation and Scott and I—I just wanted him to be sure. About me, about us,” she speaks with such raw emotion in her voice you think she might shatter to pieces. The nerve of this woman.

“Bullshit. I didn't love him, Tessa." You see her eyes harden in outrage for a fraction of a second. Always there to defend each other. “I didn't love Scott because he didn't need my love. He's had yours for over twenty years and he doesn't need anyone else’s, let alone the person who left him when she grew too tall. You underwent surgery for him, for your careers, you skated in pain for years, God only knows what else you put yourself through! You stood with him through it all. You put him before yourself every time so I ask you: why? For your partnership and career? Okay, but there’s a limit to professionalism I’m very sure you’re aware of. You don’t just give yourself to someone so completely unless there’s something else. What is Scott to you, Tessa?”

She inhales deeply through her nose once, twice. That’s okay, you can be patient.

“He’s my everything,”

You breathe a sigh of relief as the heaviness in your chest disappears with her words. A weight you’ve carried for months now that’s been becoming heavier and heavier ever since

“Good, now stop being so goddamn stubborn and tell him before you run out of time and it’s too late. Tell him what you feel because waiting is a mistake, Tessa.”

She kind of just stares at you after that and you try to school your features into a gentle expression because maybe you still look menacing. Then she looks at her hands, twisting the sopping tissue between her fingers as quiet remnants of sobs rack through her form.

When she calms down, Tessa asks you just one question— “Can I ask you something? If you don’t mind, of course.”

You nod because there really isn’t anything she can say at this point that would even remotely bother you.

“Why did it take you so long to file for the divorce?” She whispers hoarsely.

And you look her right in the eye, stare deep into her soul when you answer truthfully. “I wasn't ready to let him go, I’m still not, I think. He was my high-school sweetheart, my first love, my only love. But love dies sometimes, Tessa, and that’s why I’m here today in front you, begging you to protect and cherish what you and Scott have because the harsh reality of life is that sometimes love isn’t enough for the both of you to be happy. But you guys have so much love and history and happiness and sorrow. You went through it all together, Tessa, most couples have trouble doing that. You want to know why the two of you can’t sustain long-term relationships?”

You have to pause for a bit because this is so, so hard. Who knew doing the right thing could be so emotionally draining. She looks up and you see tears pooling in her green eyes that add weight to your chest.

“It’s because you only know how to love each other. Scott can’t love me because he doesn’t know how to and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame you either. That's what the people you give your heart to do. You lose yourself in them and you always feel incomplete without them. You’re a smart woman, Tessa but you have been so stupid for not acknowledging what you have, both of you. People kill for epic loves and you two are wasting precious time.” And with that, you get up and walk out of Tessa Virtue’s life.

You walk around Montreal for a few hours in the extreme weather because your return flight isn’t for a good six hours. When your feet touch the ground back home, you feel a great sense of calm for the first time in a while.

* * *

 

May comes soon and your court date arrives along with the onset of summer. You go and settle the paperwork, signing away a decade of love and commitment but again you feel nothing. Before this emptiness used to scare you but now you smile pleasantly at your brand new ex-husband and you wish him good luck on your way out. You feel the tender arms of freedom guiding you along an unknown path, and it’s exhilarating and nothing can make this day better.

Except for this one note.

You have a night shift and you’re working your way through patients, getting their triage out of the way, chatting up the teary-eyed children and coaxing a giggle out of them when your name is called to the reception. Marita (she’s new) smiles at you and hands you a little robin blue envelope with your name in a messy scrawl in one corner. It’s strange because who even sends mail these days but your gut tells you to open it and when you do, the soft smile that’s rested on your face all day widens.

 

_Thank you._

_—S and T_

You pocket the note.

 

Years later you’ll receive a handwritten wedding invite with the same messy scrawl and you’ll smile.

You didn’t see it coming, but you realize you should’ve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave a comment and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Don't be shy, come say hi at my ko-fi [Fey](http://ko-fi.com/feyruh)
> 
> Come yell at me on twitter if you'd like, [@ExcuseMeMsTessa](https://twitter.com/ExcuseMeMsTessa)  
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I feel like its all very confusing and I started on this before the new pictures of a vacation surfaced so I'm still not sure if I'm gonna write that into this story. There may or may not be a part 2; if there's enough interest then maybe I already have something formulating in my brain.
> 
> I'm so very sorry, come yell at me on twitter if you'd like, [@ExcuseMeMsTessa](https://twitter.com/ExcuseMeMsTessa)  
> Leave a kudos, drop me a comment! 
> 
> Don't be shy, come say hi at my ko-fi [Fey](http://ko-fi.com/feyruh)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
